Remember me
by FlightofFancy87
Summary: What would happen if Christine and Erik met on board the Titanic? NOT a crossover,characters are from PoTO,some are my own. Please R&R.Rated T,may change.
1. The Titanic

**Author Note: Ok, brand new fic! I've had this idea for quite a while now, and I think your either going to love it or hate it. I kind of love the idea, but hey, you don't have to read it if you don't like the idea  Thanks for everyone who followed my last fiction, I really appreciated it. Its because of you all that I have the courage to write a new one. **

**Thanks! Xxx**

- ----

What a buzz that echoed though the air that day! It was present in everyone's voice, expression and actions, with constant smiles and shouts full of energy and excitement. The noise of Southampton port rang along with the seagulls, which in their masses had also come to witness this historic day.

The docks were crammed with people. It was one of those few occasions were all people from all walks of life came together, joining in one crowd of shared emotion. Excitement!

All eyes were never really leaving the wonder that sat central in the docks, the one thing that graced the entire sky line if you were standing close, and the one thing that everyone was there for.

The RMS Titanic. The magnificent ship that was about to take her maiden voyage across the seas to America. It was the queen of her time, a miracle ship created with the most careful attention, the best ship every created. It was rumoured to be unsinkable, and that was what started the excitement over her.

Only the wealthy and powerful could obtain a 1st class ticket aboard her, with the interior to said to have had marble from Egypt, gold inlayed into the doorframes from Spain, and the cutlery made with the finest silver. It was true that if you were an 'anybody', you would be taking this voyage. It was not something to be missed.

Yet the ship had a unique quality of allowing this grandeur to take place whilst also allowing passengers of a less advantaged background take part in her glory. Although 3rd class passengers were deprived of the finer qualities of the Titanic, they still got to bask in the luxury of her offerings.

"Dad! Look! Are those 1st class passengers?"

A girl, or young woman, pointed up towards the gang plank that was slopping upwards towards the top levels of the ship. Her father glanced up and nodded. His face was flustered and worn out, yet he smiled at his daughter's excitement.

The girl was dressed in a large, rather tatty grey jumper over a once red skirt, which had faded with age. Over that she wore a bulky brown cord coat which almost smothered her thin frame, and her dark curls were tucked scruffily underneath a grey cap.

Her father was a thin man, with once dark hair now greying. He was dressed in the working class manner, with a huge suitcase and an instrument slung over his back. His daughter also carried packages, but not as large and bulky as his.

"Christine, come on!"

He yelled over to his daughter, who had taken to stroking the horses who pulled one of the carriages that had just arrived. She grinned and scrambled after him.

The Daae family was little, and consisted only of Gustave Daae and his daughter Christine. Her mother had died in childbirth, and their distant family was long forgotten. Gustave worked all his life as a musician, travelling the world to play and write music for those who would give him a job. He was talented to be sure, yet found it difficult to find work due to his lack of status. They had always been poor, yet it had never seemed to affect his daughter, who would follow him to the ends of the earth and back, as music was her life also. She sang along with her fathers playing for her leisure, yet she never thought herself any good, yet alone thought of herself to be recognised.

So the Daae family had taken their opportunity with savings to begin a new life in America. They had scrapped all that they could together and managed to purchase two 3rd class tickets aboard the RMS Titanic.

"A privilege to be sure, darling." Gustave said, gazing in awe up at the ship. "Most of the time places like these are reserved for God himself!"

Christine laughed, yet nodded in agreement. She had never seen such luxury before, and had never seen such wealthy men and women in the same place as herself. She felt very uncomfortable though along side them, as she had never had a problem with their lack of wealth before, until the ladies turned up there noses at her as she passed, snickering behind gloved hands. She felt her face burn up, and quickly dropped her gaze to the floor.

-- ---

"My goodness, what riff-raff they are allowing on board!"

"I totally agree with you, Elizabeth. I thought the RMS Titanic was White Star Line? A Line reserved only for those who could afford such privileges."

The two ladies stood peering unkindly at the lesser fortunate than themselves. The porters were unloading their many suitcases from the carriage that had just arrived at the docks. They were dressed in the highest of fashion, and found nothing more pleasurable than basking in their own luxuries and sneering at those who could not afford to do so.

Ms. Kingston, the mother was a very sickly looking lady, and took her pride in a very arrogant expression on her ever wrinkling face. Her daughter, Elizabeth Kingston, was as arrogant as her mother, yet held a magnificent beauty in all her features that her mother had lost with age.

Her hair was bright gold, all pinned back from her porcelain skinned face, and her perfect frame was covered by a very large, cream minx coat. Her sparkling blue eyes were cold and piercing, and her face was so perfectly formed that it would have been a delight to look upon, if she had smiled or stopped sneering.

The women began to ascend up the gangplank toward the 1st class decks of the ship. It wasn't long before they were followed by other very prestigious people, some famous, others with new found fortunes, but all still a mixture of some of the wealthiest people in the entire world.

Amongst this crowd, three men were also beginning to step out of their carriage.

"Well, gentlemen? What do you say to that?" The short gentleman with a rather comical moustache pointed both his arms upwards towards the grand ship. The other men looked on in awe, tilting their top hats back to see the ship in full.

"Id say it was all rather impressive!" His gentleman friend replied, the tallest of the three, with a dark moustache and hair that was swept back in a rather dramatic style.

"A different sort of league compared to the stage isn't it, Firmin? Now this is real life!"

Monsieur Andre nudged his companion, Monsieur Firmin, who nodded vigorously in agreement.

"What do you think, Viscount? Surely you are used to this sort of grandeur!" Monsieur Firmin grinned.

The last of the two gentlemen cocked an eyebrow at them and carried on loading a very disgruntled porter with heavy luggage.

"Gentlemen, it is a ship that is to take us to America. Do not let size impress you. Its not like a luxury we are being privileged with anyway, they are letting all sorts of rats onto this ship…"

The young man trailed off, eyeing some rough 3rd class passengers who had walked by happily. He turned his nose away, and proceeded up the gang plank. Firmin and Andre looked at each other.

"Snappy sort of fellow, don't you think? Maybe this partnership isn't going to be as easy as we thought." Firmin shifted his coat slightly around the collar. Andre sniffed and waved the notion away with his hand.

"Snappy, yet he is paying for this trip, remember. We have to keep in his good books."

Andre and Firmin were the managers of an Opera house in London, with Raoul De Chagney as their new patron. Their trip to America was a financial investment, as they had been invited to take on the task of managing a new Opera house in New York. It would be a fine opportunity for them, as the demand for such entertainment there had become an undiscovered gold mine.

"Do you think Monsieur Garnier will already be on board?" Monsieur Andre looked through the crowds of people, more out of interest than actually searching. Firmin shrugged as he chuckled.

"You know the workings of that man; he won't turn up till last minute or at least try and make a controversial entrance!"

-- ---

Christine leapt up onto her bed, which was above her fathers in a bunk bed style. It was cramped, and they were sharing the room with a newly wed couple, yet Christine couldn't help but smile. She sat up again, and looked down at her father, who was pushing their cases under his bed.

"Can we go up on deck, father?" She asked for the 10th time. He let out an audible sigh, and pushed his hair back, yet still smiled tiredly at his daughter.

"In a sec." He patted her backpack that was sitting next to her on the bed. "Unload what you need for tonight, so you won't be too tired to do it later."

She began to take out her sleeping clothes, her wash bag and brush. She had little else of value, until she pushed her hand farther down into the bag, and felt the pieces of paper with a smile.

She pulled them out and handled them with extreme care. One was a letter, which was kept in a now yellowing envelope. She took it out and began to read its very neat handwriting for the umpteenth time in her life. It was a letter from her mother, that her father had given to her for Christine's 18th birthday, which had been a few months ago. It was addressed to her father, a letter declaring her love for Gustave.

Christine's mother and father had been in a mismatched love, as Katie Daae had been from a better off family than her lover. She had defied the wished of her parents to marry the man she loved, only to be doomed to the dangers of childbearing. The letter was the only thing that Christine knew of her mother, along with a tatty photograph of her and her father in France, were they were married.

She placed them carefully under her pillow, and swung herself of the bed. As soon as her feet had hit the floor, she felt something rumble. It grew and grew until it began to scare her. She looked around in panic and placed a hand on the trembling cupboard.

"Dad…what's th…"

But her fathers face had light up, and he had already grabbed her hand, following the couple who had bolted out the room.

"The engines!" He laughed, his expressions now lacking tiredness, but full of life and excitement. "We're off!"

Christine's heart gave a great leap of excitement, and she began to run down the corridors and up the stairs to get to the decks. They flew outside from the doors, and almost ran into the rails around the deck. The crowds of people on deck were nothing compared to the number of people who had gathered to watch the Titanic pull away from Southampton dock.

Although Christine and her father had no one to bid farewell to, apart from their poor lives, they were so caught up in the atmosphere, the waved furiously and happily to the crowds of people down below who were cheering and shouting in a deafening roar.

It was one of the most thrilling moments of her life; like some of those grand moments in history were you wish you'd have been there to witness it. Well now she was! And she and her father would find a better life in America, where jobs were a plenty and the quality of life was rumoured to be luxury compared to that of Europe.

There was nothing that could have made her life happier at that very moment. She waved and shouted goodbyes, laughing with her father and everyone around her. It was an experience she would never forget.


	2. Monsieur Garnier

The quiet and tranquil music sat well in the dining room for the 1st class passengers, who sat round comfortably during the afternoon, waiting for their starters. The conversations were light and formal; mostly there had been introductions, each knowing each other by their reputations and fame.

Monsieur Reyer, a famous French musician and composer had spotted Firmin and Andre, and they were delighted to see each other, as they had been associated before; meeting every so often in the productions that were at their Opera that Reyer was involved in.

"So what calls you to America, Monsieur Reyer? The wealth? The Fame?"

"The women?" Firmin chuckled; Andre gave him a firm look and a nudge in the ribs.

"Neither actually, gentleman." Monsieur Reyer smiled. "I'm going to visit some family over there who immigrated long before me. I'm taking my sister and her daughter, please; let me introduce them to you."

He wandered over to four ladies who were sitting by the windows looking out onto deck. The two older ladies were talking very formally and solemnly together, while the two younger were sat facing the opposite direction from each other, with not very pleasant expressions.

"My sister, Madame Kingston, and my niece, Elizabeth."

The eldest of the two ladies talking, looked up with a rather annoyed expression on her face, yet stood for the politeness of acknowledgement. Firmin and Andre kissed her wrinkling hand and turned to her daughter who had already stood up and held out a gracious hand.

The two men goggled at the beauty in front of them, kissing her perfumed silk of skin and complimenting her beauty profusely. She lifted her head back and gave them the tiniest of smiles, which was more of a proud smirk than a smile. Her mother watched her with great pride.

"A star in the making, monsieur's." Mrs. Kingston yapped happily about her daughter. The two women whom they had been sat with glanced at each other and rolled their eyes slightly. "A fine singer, Eliza is. No doubt you will be seeing her in plenty of your Opera's in due course. She will be the finest thing to ever set foot on the American stage!"

"No doubt, Madame. No doubt she has talent!" Monsieur Reyer joined in the appraisal of his niece. "A voice of the heavens! Her teacher is one of, if not the finest composer and voice coach in Europe and across seas. No question that you have heard of him, Monsieur Garnier?"

"Oh!" Both men said at once. Andre carried on. "Yes, actually, we were planning to meet up with him ourselves. He's planning to stage one of his most new and finest works at our new Opera house in America!"

"That's _if_ I approve of the venue, good sir."

Everyone turned in the direction the voice had come from, which was behind them.

A man stood as straight and as proper as any gentleman did aboard the Titanic who had a 1st class ticket. His voice was pronounced in a bored and matter of fact tone, yet was deep and velvety. He was dressed in the finest of evening wear, and his expression was that of mild humour and complete lack of intrigue. That is…the expression that the party could see.

Strangely, to everyone's utter bafflement and curiosity, he wore a mask. An ivory coloured mask that covered half of his face, and left one side for all to gaze at, for it was a face that broke hearts. It was anyone's guess as to why he famously hid the other half. Mostly people put it down to his eccentricity as an artist; others thought it was to heighten the mystery that surrounded the man, as little was known about him apart from his brilliant Opera's that he belted out every season, bringing people from around the world to witness every triumph after the next. He was a passionate man, maybe eccentric and unpredictable, but passionate. And that was why everyone wanted a piece of him.

"Monsieur Garnier! A pleasure to be sure." Monsieur Andre shook his hand rather strongly, while Firmin took his hand also, almost sounding like a school boy when he talked to a man so prestigious.

"I'm sure you will approve of the venue, I mean the Opera House! I will have anything adapted to your requirements, anything at all monsieur…"

"I'm sure you will." Monsieur Garnier smiled slightly, almost sarcastically, pulling his hand away from the gentleman's grip. He moved over to Monsieur Reyer, shaking his hand politely, and then greeting Madame Kingston.

Finally, he greeted Elizabeth, who had now dropped her proud and scornful expressions, and was staring at Monsieur Garnier with a flattering and stunning smile. She held out her hand to him, and he kissed it softly.

"Having a nice evening, Monsieur?" Elizabeth purred, letting her sparkling blue eyes bore into his burning amber ones. He let his eyes study her face for a while before answering. Elizabeth felt her heart flutter under the man's stare.

"Pleasant enough thank you. And yourself, Elizabeth?"

"Could be better, Monsieur. I would prefer if we were having a lesson tonight, it would make my evening."

Elizabeth smiled sweetly at him.

Erik Garnier was a proud and private man, and brutal when it came to being in control of his Operas. He would never let anyone come in the way of his work, yet when he saw no cause of harm, he had little problem with letting a girl as pretty as this flatter him.

Now Erik knew that every girl that had threw themselves at him were only after the things he did not want to offer. His money. His reputation. His fame.

Almost of the young, rich girls, who had the tiniest amount of talent would beg for Monsieur Garnier to take them on as his students, to gain fame in the music business, a dream which all these girls shared. They wanted fame, and Erik was the one way they could get to it quickly.

But Erik would only take on the best singers he could find, and that was beginning to become a task in its own right. Even Elizabeth was not rising up to the standards and challenges that he set for his students, and she was one of the best he had.

His operas demanded perfection, and at this moment in time, it was not what he was getting. He did not want another mediocre opera, despite how much the papers praised him. He needed someone who would sing as well as his music sounded.

Perhaps there was no harm in letting Elizabeth have lessons tonight.

"I don't see why not. There's my room number, come around about half eleven."

She took the card from him and smiled even wider, showing a beautiful set of pearly white teeth. God, she made him sick. Her sickly sweet smile which went with her sickly sweet voice. He smiled falsely as he bowed away.

"Gentlemen, I will take my leave of you. I bid you a good night."

"Oh!" Elizabeth looked rather abashed. "Are you not going to join us for diner?"

"I'm afraid I have a previous engagement, but I will see you tonight, my dear."

He ignored Elizabeth's pout of annoyance, and after his farewell, he walked away in relief. He had come down to the dining room after building himself up to. He hadn't particularly wanted to, but knew that e would have to socialise at some point, as that what came with being on board a ship. Even the biggest of ships can be the tiniest of prisons for a man with Erik's love of privacy.

On seeing the people that he had to associate with, and their false pleasantries and their stuck up, selfish and arrogant ways, he almost felt sick. He had to literally force himself to keep his voice to a manner of politeness to the people who he wished nothing more than to be away from.

Andre and Firmin were the least of his favourite people. He hated people who sucked up to him, just for his talent. The only reason why he even stayed in their good books was to keep a good Opera house with a good reputation for his work. He would only accept the best for his work. Andre and Firmin were his best bet for his work to get shown in the best places. It pained him to accept that. Yet this voyage was hopefully going to make him so big in America, he could one day manage his own Opera house. But that was in the future…

Erik passed through his room, grabbing his coat and cigars before heading out.

-- ---

Down below the decks, the 3rd class passengers were being handed out their meals, which was a bland dose of vegetable soup and roast pork. Although it was a small portion, Christine and her father wolfed it down, like so many of the others, as it was one of the most appetising meals they had ever had.

Christine and her father had taken friendship with the newly wed couple that were sharing the cabin with them. The man was a young, healthy boy of Irish origin, and his wife was a pretty, blonde haired girl with a northern English accent. Their names were Jerry and Megan. Megan was Christine's age, and Christine was more than interested in Meg, who seemed to lead a totally different life to her.

"Oh married life isn't all bad!" Meg giggled, after telling Christine the same inevitable existence of their struggle to survive on their poor income, and Meg recently find out that she was with child. "I love the rouge, and he does take care of me. Only marry Christine, if you love. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Or else you'll end up in a load of trouble."

"I doubt Ill be getting married anytime soon." Christine smiled, rubbing her nose with the back of her sleeve scruffily, dirtying it more. "My dad won't let me get away!"

"Go any time you please. I've been trying to get rid of you for years!" He chuckled as she shoved him roughly, making his tea slop down his jumper. He scuffed up her curls fondly before she pushed him away, sticking a tongue out at him.

"See?" Meg laughed before standing and offering an arm to Christine. "Care to join me on a walk?"

The two girls left the men in the rowdy under deck party to take a stroll on deck. It was night time now, and the air was beginning to chill more as they moved their way out to sea.

"So America…what kind of place do you reckon it'll be?" Meg stared off into the constant darkness over the rails. Christine pulled her large cord coat tighter around her, tucking her hair into a cap and over her ears.

"I don't know." She sighed, gazing out also. "A place of dreams, I hope. A place were everyone's troubles will vanish, and jobs are like as common as muck."

Meg sighed too, and nodded in agreement. "Don't you wish sometimes that you could live like the other half? See what life is like where money isn't a problem?"

Christine thought a moment, and then shook her head slowly. "I don't think so." Meg looked at her in surprise. Christine's face, despite its young and un-weathered look, showed age beyond her years through wisdom in her eyes.

"Imagine a life with no pain. You would never learn to appreciate happiness and love if there was not a balance in the world. And to tell you the truth, I would rather be on the end were there was love and no money. Cause if I had to spend one day being miserable with a load of money and nothing to do, I would probably cease wanting to live."

Meg smiled at her new found friend, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You are a lot wiser than me, my friend. But I would have to take the money for a thicker coat. I'm freezing!"

Christine laughed, and pulled off her scarf, and gave it to Meg. "Here, it's yours. Not very nice, but it keeps out the cold."

Meg smiled at her, and wrapped it around her neck. "If you don't mind Christine, I should like to turn in. My head is spinning a little." She pawed her stomach fondly.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, no, stay out here for a while if you like. I just need to lie down for a bit."

Christine bid farewell to Meg, and watched her leave down the white rail stairs. She turned and faced back out to sea, to watch the dark pass like a dream in front of her wide awake eyes, taking deep breathes of the salty air and feeling the rough wind against her face, and loving every minute of it.

Christine began to imagine her dads and her new life in America, with a little apartment, full of their instruments and two lovely beds with soft pillows. Her dad would bid her farewell as he went off to work in a national orchestra, and she would walk around New York, humming to herself and drinking in the marvellous wonders around her.

If she was daring enough, she could even try and get a singing job, like in a tavern or even a social club, where the wealthy and rich would come from all around to hear her voice…

Come to think of it, she hadn't sung in a long time.

Christine glanced around before even daring to hum, and seeing no one in sight, began to recite a song her father taught her in a music lesson. It was a lovely song that he had wrote, full of notes perfectly tailored to her voice. She felt tingles down her fingers and toes as her confidence grew along with the volume of her voice. Christine began to swing on the boughs as she sang, spinning and twirling as if she were on a real stage.

She span around and around, laughing almost through her song, not noticing that her spinning was sending her off course.

Christine jumped and yelped as she bumped into something soft and large.

"Beg your pardon, mister." She said, bowing her head in shame, and feeling the red hot embarrassment seep into her cheeks. She didn't even look up at him to see who she had bumped into before turning to bolt, when the man spoke.

"Pardon granted. Who are you?"

Christine still didn't look up, but gazed over her shoulder.

"Christine D…Davenport." Christine had learnt over the years not to give out your real name to anyone who asks. No matter how important they seemed to speak.

"You learnt to sing like that?"

"Yea...Um…Well I taught myself. Sorry sir, I don't mean to be rude, but I really must be going…"

"Wait a moment."

The tall man stepped out onto the deck, away from the side of the bough he had been standing. He took down his high collar on his coat to reveal his face, and removed his top hat. Christine now was intrigued rather than embarrassed, by the curious man that stood in front of her. No doubt he was a first class passenger; he had that sort of regal importance about him that Christine had grown to dislike.

Yet, she had not noticed that. Rather, she found herself captured by his dancing eyes, and his curious way of hiding half his face behind an ivory mask.


	3. Choices

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen Sir."

The tall, curious man seemed to stare at her for a very long time, narrowing his eyes, scanning her scruffy clothes and every inch of her face. Christine felt like see was standing in a crowded room with no clothes on. This man scared her, and she thought more than once about just running away. It seemed like a life time before he even spoke again.

"You're a 3rd class passenger?"

"Yes sir."

"You don't have to keep addressing me as 'sir'." He cocked an eyebrow at her, looking half amused. She frowned.

"Then what should I address you as?"

"Monsieur Garnier will be fine."

"_Thee_ Monsieur Garnier?"

Erik burned holes into the girl standing in front of him. Part of her face was hidden under her cap, yet he could see the large doe like eyes now looking awed at him.

When he had come out on deck, there had been a few stray couples walking around on deck. He did not want to be around anyone, so he wandered until he came to the lower decks which were reserved for the 3rd class passengers. They were deserted, so he lent against a bough, lighting his cigar and blowing the smoke into the wind.

Behind him, he heard two young girls walk by, yet had not taken any notice, as they had not seen him. He carried on falling into his thoughts, until he heard something….

Something that echoed beautifully in the night air, sparkling, crisp and clear. It was the music in his soul, the voice in his dreams, but it was real! And it was coming from a young girl, who had just happened to bumped into him that very instant he step around to see…

He needed her, he needed that voice. It wasn't completely developed, but with training it could be the voice of an angel.

He just needed to not frighten the girl away. She was looking ready to bolt before he had mentioned his name. Now she was looking at him with new found interest.

"Well I hope there is not more than one of me."

The pretty girl smiled. Through her dirty face, scruffy clothes and worried expression, the smile broke through it all. Erik blinked and drew in the tiniest breath.

"Wow, Erik Garnier, the famous composer? S'cuse me for asking, but why are you on the 3rd class deck?"

It was Erik's turn to smile, but only slightly. The fact that she knew who he was, well, it was very impressive. He felt flattered that she knew, but also worried. He had seen many a voice destroyed by egos, and he was worried in case this Christine would be blinded by the money involved that she would forget to nurture that wonderful voice of hers.

Erik half expected the young girl to beg at him, like so many poor people did. She was only expected to, she was just a commoner.

He cursed himself a moment later for being exactly like his associates back on the 1st floor deck. He tried to rid himself of such thoughts, yet it had been hard, especially seeing what some poor people can be like. After all…he'd been one himself…

"I got tired of the music up there. Too quaint for my taste." He muttered in his low, rumbling voice.

And a funny thing happened, which Erik did not expect.

Christine shrugged and turned to leave.

"Well that's a shame. It was nice speaking to you Sir…Monsieur Garnier. Bye!"

Erik felt dumbstruck. Never in his life had anyone turned their back like that to him after learning who he was. Even the richest of his admirers would try and whittle a 'friendship' with him, desperate to gain access to Erik Garnier's world were prosperity reined free.

But here was this young, scrawny poor girl, who smiled…but walked away.

"Christine, wait, I should like to speak to you further."

Now Christine was not used to this. No one had ever really wanted to talk to her this much, especially not someone as famous and rich as this. She had never even spoken to a rich person in her life. Now this famous and mysterious composer was inviting her to chat with him! But Christine had heard horror stories about young girls, mixing with rich and powerful men, only to be used and thrown back out into the cold streets with a broken heart.

But no matter how hard she tried, she could not imagine this man to be like this. When she had heard of Erik Garnier, it had been from her father and his artistic friends, who would have fantasies about playing in a Garnier Opera, and what a powerful man he was.

If Christine was being honest, she thought him to be a little pompous when she had listened about him. She had distaste for most wealthy people, not for all, but for the ones full of attitude and hatred for people like her. She expected this man to be the top of her hatred list if she would ever come across him.

But now, all she could do was try and pull herself away from those burning amber eyes that burnt into hers. It was uncomfortable being looked at so much, but she could not break from gazing at him.

His face, moulded to perfection, reserved for the most beautiful women to love and cherish. His mysterious aura was even more intriguing, drawing her in to wonder what he was concealing behind that mask.

Maybe Monsieur Garnier wasn't as 'equal-minded' as he seemed to be, and was probably in fact, quite pretentious.

But on hearing her name in his voice, curiously, she could do nothing but stop and turn back.

"Christine, you have a fantastic voice. And believe me; I have heard a lot of voices in my time."

"Um…thanks." She looked down to the floor again; hot embarrassment flooding her cheeks once more. "I'm not that good; I just like to do it."

He frowned at her, crossing his arms. "Are you questioning my judgement?"

And there it was again, the defiance and spirit he saw dancing in her eyes.

"If it's about me, then yes I am."

He almost laughed out loud, but he contained himself. "Well I should like to hear you sing more."

It was Christine's turn to frown. She tugged on her cap and pulled her coat more tightly around her.

"I'm not doing it now!"

"Why ever not?"

"Because!"

"'Because', mademoiselle, is not an answer."

"Oh for god sake, I can't just bloody sing if you ask me to…"

All at once, Christine looked horrified, and clapped a hand over her mouth. Erik looked at her wide eyed, his expression full of shock and amusement.

"Oh sorry…" She gasped. "I...I meant, I didn't mean…"

"It's perfectly alright. But a singer would never get away with such language."

"Well I'm not a singer am I?"

"You could be."

Christine laughed genuinely. "Yeah right, and I'm just going to get the money for training from a money tree am I? Oh…" She sighed and smiled apologetically. "There I go again."

Erik smiled slowly at her, his hands tucked in his coat pocket, leaning against the railing of the ship. Christine felt something leap inside her, as that smile caught on something inside, something she couldn't name or place or recognise. It felt nice. She smiled back.

"You don't have to pay. Just sing for me once again, and I will decide whether you are good enough to train."

Christine smiled dropped. She scanned his eyes for a hint of deception, a lie, a trick. A clever way of sussing someone out, yet it didn't seem to be working this time. Either he was telling the truth, or he was a very, very good liar.

"Sorry…But I have only just met you. I can't…I can't just…accept things off you like that."

"I'm not offering any charity. You are a brilliant singer. You deserve to be recognised."

"I didn't mean that…I meant I can't be expected to trust you yet, can I?"

For the 3rd time that night, Erik smiled genuinely. He hadn't smiled once since that morning, let alone in the past weeks, slaving over his new opera score, and socialising with the boredom of society. But this girl was making him feel like smiling all the time. It felt nice.

"No, I expect you can't." He sighed dramatically and looked away from her. She watched him for a long time before sitting up next to him on the rail, swinging her legs up and sitting on the edge. They sat in silence for a long time. It didn't feel like an awkward silence for any of them, but a comfortable on, just enjoying each others company on the lonely deck.

"You're different to other rich people."

"How many rich people do you know?"

"Erm…well…none. But I mean like…their attitudes. I wouldn't have expected a 1st class person would even want to come on the 3rd deck, let alone speak to one of the persons that infest it!"

"Well, I told you, I came because I can't hear the music from here."

"Just the music?"

He turned his head to side look her. The hidden side to his face was on the opposite side to her, so all she could do was stare at his perfect features.

"You're full of questions, Mademoiselle. I thought you had wanted to leave."

"I changed my mind."

She looked…so…what was it? Sitting childishly, swinging her legs through the railings, her tatty cap, concealing her hair, the brown coat that seemed to smother her…he couldn't see it. All he could see was that smooth jaw line…her full lips and her eyes that caught the lights when she turned to him.

He coughed, a little too dramatically. "Changed your mind about anything else?"

Christine twisted her mouth in thought. She was being very silly if she followed this man anywhere, let alone sing privately for him. He was probably just looking for someone to…no…no, he wasn't. But how did she know? How did she know he wasn't going to use her and do what he liked then toss her over the side of the boat? No one would care about a missing 3rd class passenger.

Christine scolded herself for letting her imagination run away with her. He seemed like, well…she wouldn't say nice…but genuine enough. And he was offering her the opportunity of a life time.

Wasn't she being selfish if she didn't take him up on it? With the money she could save being a singer, she could get her dad a job anywhere in America! Even Monsieur Garnier would listen to her father, and get him a well paid job!

It was a wild fantasy, but a fantasy that held a pin prick of hope. Was there really any harm in singing for him once more? Even if it didn't lead anywhere, at least she tried!

Erik was watching her all the time she thought, watching her eyes flicker and her hand rub her nose. Really, what did he care if she let him down? He would be made a laughing stock, taking on a girl like this! She could ruin him.

But yet…all the time his brain calculated, his heart begged for her to accept. He found himself clutching the railing tightly, and biting the inside of his lip. His heart fluttered as she turned to him with a smile.

"Alright then."

Erik couldn't help but smile once more. "Here's my room number. Come and see me tomorrow at 10 am. If anyone gives you trouble with getting up there, tell them I sent you, and to accompany you till you reach me, and I will deal with them. Goodnight Christine"

And with that, he kissed her hand, and wandered back to his own quarters, with the sitting Christine watching him depart, feeling his kiss long after he had left.


	4. Elizabeth's Trial

**Note: Hey thanks for all the reviews guys!I really appreciate them. Xxx Oh, just for some readers, I have read the book ;) I just like to use 'my' own character perceptions to tie in with 'my' story line :) That's why it's a fan fiction.**

-- ---

Erik felt his lips burning. The touch of her skin was a lot softer than what he was expecting, and he could still feel it playing on his mind. In fact, it occupied him all the way up to his room, where something broke him cruelly out of his thoughts…

The angry face of Elizabeth Kingston.

_Oh damn. _ It was well past 11 o clock, and Elizabeth would have probably been there half an hour earlier anyway, so she was not in the best of moods when he arrived.

She gave him a filthy look as he past her wordlessly to open the doors.

"And where have you been? 11 o clock, you said, Erik! Not quarter to 12! How dare you think you can keep me waiting this long?"

Erik was in no mood for her self indulging whining, so he made his feelings apparent in his voice.

"You didn't have to wait. You can go if you like."

She gasped dramatically, much to his annoyance. "Leave a singing lesson? I would never!"

All of a sudden, she changed her angry glare and whiny tone into a smooth voice and soft features, enhancing her beauty in one swift go. She sighed and smiled, looking at Erik with a funny expression. He did not look long enough to find out what that look was.

He walked into his room, lighting it up into a soft glow, what he preferred. His piano, which he had specifically requested to be in his room, was not to his standards, but it would have to do. It had not been tuned to his liking, yet he liked its appearance, large and of ebony colour. He ran his fingers across the keys like a man caress his lover.

"Alright Elizabeth, come." He beckoned for her to stand next to the piano with him. She walked over slowly, and placed a hand on top of the lid, always watching him. She shifted in her jade green evening dress, which was littered with beads and jewels, matching the diamonds dripping from her neck and ears. She looked like a princess.

"Stand as I have taught you, stomach in, chest out, feet slightly apart. Now, we shall begin with 'Après le Revire'.

Elizabeth sang as Erik started with his intro, his eyes closing, falling into his music. He could hear his music dancing out as graceful as a bird on the wind. But what he couldn't hear…was Elizabeth trying to sing properly.

He stopped abruptly. "Elizabeth, remember to breathe properly, or else I won't carry on with this lesson. I know you know how to do this." He snapped.

Usually, Elizabeth would have taken on her wounded approach, fluttering her eyelashes madly, and looking dramatically hurt by his criticism. He knew she didn't care. She knew she would probably be on stage anyway, seeing as though she could just buy her way on. It made his blood boil.

But this time, she did not. She looked down at him curiously, and then moved closer to him, and finally sitting down next to him on the stool. He watched her, totally abashed. His fingers were still resting on the piano, and she placed a pale, slender hand over them, pawing them carefully, trailing her fingers down every one of his.

She watched herself do this for a minute, before talking to the stunned man sitting next to her.

"Monsieur…I have something I wish…I would like to discuss with you."

Erik didn't answer her. He did what he was most good at, keeping his face completely expressionless. He just stared at her. She sighed.

"This is hard for me. I know it must be had for you too…to admit…to admit we share a mutual attraction."

She let her hand slide further up his hand, and to his wrist, then bringing them down his fingers again.

"I have wanted to tell you for a long time. Me and you, Erik…we are perfect for each other! We have everything we could want, money, status, pride! We fit…you and I."

Her voice dropped into a sultry, heavy voice, pouting her lips slightly, and shifting closer to him, which she knew by experience, that all men could not resist.

"Erik…"

Her hand found his unconcealed cheek, trailing a finger under his jaw line. She caressed his cheek while staring deep into his eyes.

"Let me see you properly."

Her hand moved a little too quickly towards Erik mask. He stood up in an instant, knocking her hand away forcefully. She yelped in pain, grabbing her wrist and looking at him horrified.

"Erik! Let me just…"

She jump up and tried to grab him. He tried to hold her at arms length, but she squirmed until she had dodged around his free arm, the other keeping tight hold of his mask to his face.

She tried to prise his hand away, but Erik was beginning to feel that feeling he sometimes had. It was pure rage. The fury built up inside him, tearing at him from the inside and setting his sight to a blood tinge.

He finally grabbed her, and with some of his might, pushed her roughly away. If he had used all of his strength, the girl would probably have been sent through the wall. Instead, she was flung onto the cushioned chair behind them.

"You bastard! How can you do this to me!" She screamed in a murderous rage. But Erik's anger was much, much more forceful.

"You…" He looked at her like dirt. "Are the last person on earth I would even consider to feel 'anything' for."

Through the gasps and sobs she choked out some words.

"But Erik…I…I love you!"

He laughed heartily, spitefully and cruelly. "You don't know how to love, you fool of a girl. Don't you dare come here and insult me again. Do you hear me? I don't want you in my sight."

She made to get up, but took a step near him, the tears spilling over onto her red cheeks. But he backed away, still clutching the mask to his face, and almost cowering against the wall, in fear that she would touch him again.

"Get out…Elizabeth." She took another step nearer, her arm outstretched.

"**I SAID GET OUT!"**

Elizabeth Kingston flew to the door in tears, full of fear and rage. Her beautiful golden hair was dishevelled, her dress was bedraggled, and her once perfect face was tear-streaked and puffy. With all her effort, she slammed his door as hard and as could, sending the vibrations rattling through Erik's body.

The moment she left, Erik set about smashing things on his shelves, pounding his fists on the piano keys and frustratingly sliding down the wall, his hands curled in his hair, with his head resting on his knees.

With no justification for how he felt, the only thing that would comfort him, strangely, was the thought that tomorrow would bring a different visitor to him.

-- ---

Christine had not slept well that night. Firstly, she had lied to her father about where she had been. Well, she had not entirely lied, but she had not mentioned to him the encounter with Monsieur Garnier, as much as it was killing her to tell him. She knew that he would never allow her to go and visit him the next day.

Secondly, she had been worried about it herself. Even as she woke up that morning, she almost decided not to go. What if it had been a joke, or a nasty trick? Why would he want to just listen to her? Surely he had other students he could teach?

But still, _still_, there was that nagging feeling that if she didn't go, she would live her life regretting it forever. It was in her nature to follow her curious side. That's why that morning, she found herself clambering over the rails of the 3rd deck to get up to the top, where the 1st class passenger rooms where.

That morning, she had picked out the best clothes she owned, a dark pleated skirt that almost covered her scruffy boots, a tatty dark blue jumper pulled over a white-ish shirt. She had even attempted to neaten her hair, and wash her face the best she could. Even her father found it suspicious.

"Where do you think your going?" He eyed her, watching her pull out her auburn curls. She almost jumped at his question, never really being a good liar to her father, who almost always sussed her out.

"I'm…I'm going to explore. Ill come back, dad, I just want to see how far I can get on this boat." She smiled innocently.

"Not in those clothes your not. Go and get changed."

Her face fell. What would Erik think of her if she turned up in her scruffy exploring clothes, handed down by her father?

"But Dad! How can I try and get onto the second class decks if I am looking so scruffy? I need to look at least presentable."

Gustave watched her carefully, waiting for a flicker of the eye, or a falter in the tone of her voice, just as she had done to Erik the night before. But there was nothing, apart from a slight drop in her smile. But he trusted her not to do anything stupid.

"Alright then, you scallywag. Hop it."

He watched her run off happily, in fact, a little too happily for his liking…

Christine clutched the card which Erik had given to her in her hand tightly. Her nerves where getting the better of her now, squirming and dancing inside her, making her want to throw up over the side of the boat. The day had started off very fair and dry, so a lot of people were on deck around breakfast time. It was going to be hard for Christine to get over the boarders without being noticed.

And as if on cue, a shout came as soon as she had swung herself over the first set of railings. Lucky, it was not a yell she had to panic about.

"Oi, Chris! Were you off ter?" It was Jerry, Meg's husband, who was sitting with a bunch of his friends. She waved back and mimed someone looking through binoculars. He laughed and shouted, "Mind yourself, okay? I've heard those 1st class passengers aren't very keen on us lot!"

She lifted a thumb up to him, and scampered off to the next railings to get up to the first deck.

When she had jumped over, a bunch of ladies had gasped at her and began to chat furiously behind their hands. Christine pretended not to notice, and carried on strolling as if she had done nothing.

Despite the funny looks she was getting with her scruffy old clothes, she didn't draw too much attention to herself on deck. It wasn't until she found a door way into the inside, did she find any trouble.

A member of the staff spotted her as she walked down the corridors, checking every door for a number on the front. He grabbed her roughly, and looked sternly at her as if she were nothing but a common thief.

"Hey, your not supposed to be up here! Ill report you!"

Christine shook her head furiously, and shoved the card under his nose.

"No! Erik Garnier sent for me, he gave me his room number and told me to come and find him."

The man laughed at her, and tightened his grip on her arms, as if meaning to lead her away.

"Yeah, and I'm the Capitan."

But Christine squirmed in his grip, and stood defiantly in her place.

"If you don't believe me, go and check his room. He told me to send anyone who said otherwise was to come with me and speak to him."

He looked highly amused. "You know what, as a matter of fact, I will, and then you will be in even bigger trouble than you are now."

He frog marched her down the corridors, attracting more attention than she did on her own. It took quite a while to reach his room, she hardly remembered the way back through all those doors, rooms and corridors. Down a very large and highly decorated corridor, the crew man rapt on a door they came to with his knuckles harshly. The number read the same as what was on her card.

"Let see what he has to say to all this nonsense. I assure you, he wont appreciate being disturbed like this…in fact, he's probably at break…"

The door pulled open, and their as promised, Erik Garnier stood, looking very agitated and tired. He looked to the man, who had now seemed to have lost his confident, cocky attitude. He bowed low. Erik then looked to Christine, who when he recognised, lighting his expression up considerably.

"What seems to be the problem?" He glared at the man. His voice faltered slightly as he tried to explain his disobedient disturbance of a prestigious guest aboard the Titanic.

"Monsieur, this girl claim to hold an invite to your quarters. I beg you forgive our intrusion, she obviously has no idea who you…"

"Christine, please, come in." He held open the door for her, much to the shock of the crew member, who gawked at her as she twisted from his strong grip on her arm, and smirked at him from behind Erik's back. Erik shut the door over as he walked out into the corridor, facing the man with a grim and sinister look on his face, backing the poor man against the wall.

"And the next time you man handle my students like that again, I will personally see to it that you are thrown over board."

The crew man almost fell to his knees in apology, clasping his hands together and bowing so low his nose scraped the floor. By the time he had risen, Erik had already shut the door in his face.


	5. The First lesson

When Christine turned, her breath caught in her throat. She had been dazzled by the grandeur of the corridors she had just passed, but it was nothing compared to the beauty she saw in front of her now. The walls were a deep scarlet pattern, with gold inlay and dark wooden panels. The room they stood in led off into different ones, dwarfing her cabin by at least 20 times. The room was lit softly, she noticed, that the port holes had been blocked with curtains.

In the centre of the room was a huge black piano. Christine had never seen such an instrument, and she yearned to try running her fingers across the white keys. Yet a shutting of the door behind her brought her back to her senses.

She turned again, facing the masked man who had now turned to acknowledge her. Christine suddenly felt afraid again, and her mouth turned to cotton. Monsieur Garnier was so astonishingly handsome, she felt herself turning red under his stern gaze, and she shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Frustratingly, he said nothing to calm the atmosphere. He paced past her and sat at the piano, ever watching her.

"I'm sorry if that man gave you any trouble." He spoke finally. His voice sounded dark and hoarse. Christine shook her head quickly.

"No sir, not at all. No trouble whatsoever."

Monsieur Garnier never smiled, but his expression softened considerably. Again, he went back to that agonising silence, to the point Christine hoped he had made a mistake and he would send her away. It would be better than standing in a room alone with a man she never even knew. Her father would have beaten her senseless if he knew where she was.

Erik Garnier had trouble thinking of what to say. He still felt furious from the night before, and would feel his arms aching from where he had pushed things over and slammed his fists. Yet this girl had arrived, and he had immediately forgotten his own self. He just couldn't help but stare at the timid beauty that stood before him, clutching her hands together, and biting her bottom lip in suspense. Her tattered clothes did little to hide her pretty features, which he couldn't help but admire. Finally, he worked up the stamina to ask her to begin.

"Right, Mademoiselle Daae. Please, if you will." He beckoned for her to stand next to the piano. She edged slowly towards him as he ruffled through a few music sheets in front of him. "Do you know any arias?"

Christine shook her head.

"None whatsoever?"

Again she shook her head solemnly, knitting her eyebrows together in a worried frown. Maybe this was going to be harder than he thought.

"Well…just sing what you are comfortable with. I want to hear your voice once more. Come, sing."

To her surprise, he turned away from her. Christine had felt her heart sink at his expression when she had revealed her ignorance of opera. Her mind scanned so blindly through all the songs her father had taught her. She had to think quickly, as she felt compelled to not let Monsieur Garnier down.

Finally, she remembered a suitable song; a song which her father had told her had been her mothers favourite. It was soft and meaningful. It suited her voice wonderfully.

When she began to sing, she felt her fear slip away. The apprehension and embarrassment were all carried away with each note she sing so wonderfully.

Erik felt his heart soar. He knew he had not made a mistake. This was the girl he needed so badly to be his top student. Her voice came from her soul, from the very core of her emotions. She seemed to know a pain that he could relate to, an emotion she drew right out with her expression and beautiful pitch. It sent his mind to a place it had never even glimpsed before.

He opened his eyes to find she had stopped singing. She was waiting for his criticism, for him to turn her away and scorn his mistake. But that was not the case.

"Sing it again. This time, when you breathe out, contract you stomach muscles in. Breathing in should bring your lungs out, giving you sufficient air for longer notes. Try again."

She obeyed, and this time he stood up and stood beside her, muttering small instructions to her as she sang. She found it extremely difficult to remember all that he was saying, especially since he strove for utter perfection. She was out of breath the next time she finished.

"Good." He nodded. "Do it again."

She looked at him exasperated. "Again? I'm completely out of breath!"

But as soon as she spoke, she regretted it, as he turned on her with a bitter expression. She never gave him a chance to speak; she just took a deep breath and began quickly.

The instructions were much faster this time; he uttered one after another, sometimes repeating ones if she was concentrating too much on a new one. At the climax of the song, he stopped and just listened.

What he heard was the beginning of perfection. A voice so clear and radiant, he wanted to continue the lesson for as long as he could. But he could see, for a first instruction, he had clearly over worked her.

"Forgive Miss Daae. I have kept you for far too long."

She just looked at him, her expression unreadable. He looked back at her.

"I… should like it if you were to return for futhur instruction." He almost felt his words fail him, to his utter astonishment. Her face lit up drastically.

"So...so you think I have talent?" She smiled.

Her face was so full of hope and happiness at that very moment, Erik felt a surge in his heart. Something that stirred deep in his centre; like a tiny light lighting up the darkest corners of his soul. It felt mind numbing and very disturbing.

"Yes, Miss Daae. You have an astonishing talent I have not heard in a very long time."

It felt strange to be complimenting one so young and untrained, especially since he was renowned for his harshness and brutality. Yet, it felt like the entirely correct thing to do. Her voice was what he had heard in his dreams. He had finally found what his whole life had been dedicated to search for.

Christine laughed with glee, and then quickly stifled her laughter with the back of her hand, as if remembering her manners.

"Thank you, Monsieur Garnier." She seemed completely on the verge of tears. Erik was not used to enjoying someone's company so much, so in a moment of utter indecorous-ness, he asked the unexpected.

"Miss Daae, would you care to accompany me to lunch?"

Christine felt her heart leap into her mouth. Erik Garnier had just told her she was one of the best talents he had heard, and now she was being invited to dine with him, in the 1st class lounge? It was a complete shock to her, and even one to Erik. He had never, ever asked anyone to dine with him before.

"I…I cannot. I wouldn't be welcome."

Erik frowned slightly. He had no female clothing she could borrow, so more than likely she would be asked to leave the 1st class dining hall. Third class passengers were forbidden on that level.

"How about I meet you on the deck after lunch?" She smiled. "I'm sure I would be less of a burden there."

All Erik could do was look at her. She felt no sorrow for herself, and accepted her place so willingly. It made him hate his own status even more.

"Of course, Miss Daae. It will be a pleasure."

Christine smiled wider, and then looked to her feet before walking to the door and opening it. She turned before leaving and looked back at him.

"You can call me Christine." She shut the door behind her. Erik watched the door for a few seconds before muttering her name softly, enjoying the sound it created as sweet as her own angelic voice.


End file.
